God was perfect. Jesus was perfect. And the message, over and over again, was that I
But in order to be worthy of heaven, worthy of standing in the presence of god, worthy of LOVE,…..we had to be. Perfect.
Over and over, I learned that there were two ways of life — perfect, or not. No in-between. Pass or fail.
And how can we live that way? Always worried, never enough. Never perfect.
As you may have picked up from previous posts, anxiety and depression still plague me as an atheist, but contrary to the thought of the religious, they are not a result of my leaving faith, they are a result of my having been a part of it in the first place.
Though I have left faith, faith has yet to leave me. Residual effects of belief in the atonement litter themselves over my emotional state and my psyche.
And breakthroughs happen, but we must be diligent in pursuing them. Not let the anxieties win, but instead confront them, analyze them, dispel them and thus cast the demons of religion out of our lives, one by one.
And this one, this demon of perfection, is an ugly one. A strong one. The lie that:
“Something cannot be good unless it is perfect.”
Or phrased differently,
“I am not good unless I am perfect.”
And am I perfect? Hell to the no. I never have been. But instead of having the blood of a god I killed to rely on to make me perfect, I am left alone. With the death of belief in me, so did the only help I had in being perfect. But instead of denying the cross when I denied faith, I picked it back up again because I deep down I still believed *someone* needed to bear it. Carrying the cross of perfection was the only way I could be good.
But fuck that. Good is beautiful. Imperfect is beautiful. Good is enough. Good is BETTER. It is authentic. It is real. I am enough, I am beautiful, I am imperfect and that is GOOD.
Fuck the cross and the god who bore it for me and taught me I am nothing without it.
I stand against that lie in the name of TRUTH. And I know that all that is true, and good, and beautiful stand along with me.